Both are very
intelligent, kind, civic-minded sort of gals. And, oh yes, they are both
capable of running a small country, independently. Just ask them. Working
collaboratively is not their strong suit.

“L” is a sought-after
executive coach, president of the Rotary in her town and in general the kind of
person able to deal with any crisis. Albeit on her terms. She is always sporty
and capable, ready for whatever comes her way.

“K,” recently retired
from a university HR career, has – since childhood – won most every sports
competition on offer, using physical skill, her very quick wit and steel-trap
mind. The tallest of my five female siblings, she brooked little nonsense or
challenge from anyone measuring less than 5’8.”

The three of us had
happily agree to get get the groceries, at least I thought so. The vehicle was
very large and, in spite of being take charge kind of women, L and K had tasked
me with driving. It was out of their comfort zone. Interesting, I thought.

We did not arrive at the
store with a list but we were on holiday and I assumed that all rules were
likely tossed out the window for the week.

I was dismayed to find
that L and K had decided that we were taking turns making dinners at home for
most of the holiday, as dining out seemed superfluous and extravagant – to
them. Being well past the mid-century mark, you may wonder why I didn’t voice
my own opinion about this. I am an adult after all. Read on…

Car parked, grocery cart
in hand, in we went, discussing who would cook what, when. The storm began to
brew at least ten paces before the automatic doors. We could hear the pleasant
music playing, could smell enticing edibles as we approached but I sensed a
slight uptake of wind.

“David doesn’t like
fish” retorted L. “He’ll eat salmon IF its’s from the West Coast.” No smile
softened that statement.

“ He doesn’t like fish?
He’s from B.C.!” was K’s input. Eyes rolling behind L’s back as if to say “OMG!”

“Let’s just see what
they have,” I offered. “A big store like this will have lots of options”.

I splintered off to peruse
the salmon, watching the other two head down the wine, beer and snacks aisle. I
felt a further shift in the wind.

Leaning over the fish
counter, sorting through the choices, I suddenly became aware of a high
pressure system pushing in behind me.

“What is HER problem?”
demanded K. “Who died and left HER in charge?”

I asked what the problem
was, finding K’s exasperation a little comical.

“She isn’t sticking to
ANY kind of budget! You should see how many bottles of wine she has in the
cart. And peanut butter. Why does she have to buy so much peanut butter?”

At this point, L showed
up with our cart, noticeably fuller with wine, beer, chips, peanut butter and
ice cream. Holiday sort of food. K, a frugal woman in every possible way,
almost looked apoplectic. These two women obviously had very different ideas
about holidays, food and fun.

“Is there a problem?” a
grim-faced L asked.

I looked first at one
sister, then the other. I could feel a storm cloud casting down on either side
of me, barometric pressure mounting. K had turned her head, muttering, “What the
???” under her breath. Well, sort of under her breath.

L had pulled herself up to her full 5’5,”
narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips. I had to think – quick! This aisle was
about to blow into a Category 8 storm!

Summoning my inner U.N.
negotiator, I gently suggested to L that perhaps she should continue shopping
on the aisle, just ahead and to the right.

“I’ll meet you at the checkout,” I said. “K,”
I went on, “I thought you might like to wait nearer to the front of the store,
maybe even outside in the nice, warm sunshine. After all, you did say you felt
chilly in the air conditioning. You wouldn’t want to catch cold now.”

At this point, I noticed
that a grocery clerk had been standing near us, apron on, broom at the ready,
perhaps sensing a cleanup might be required.

“Did you need help
finding anything, Ma’am?” he said, seemingly aware of the stormy undercurrents.

“Oh no, not at all, but
thank you,” Idemurred. “Everything’s
fine”.

I squared my shoulders,
drew a deep breath and headed quickly to the checkout. Phew! It seemed I’d
dodged this one storm at least, likely the first in seven turbulent days.

As I walked towards L at
the counter, I saw K standing outside the store, arms crossed, her body
language warning all to steer clear. I thought I could hear my father chuckling,
from the great beyond, saying, “Good luck! You ‘re going to need it!”

The clerk with the broom
smiled at me. “Enjoy this beautiful weather we are having.”

If he only knew.

Paula Aicklen is a budding writer who
engages in many creative ventures and has always had a love for the written
word. Paula works in Oakville as a design consultant and floral designer and
hopes to mesh her writing with these pursuits.

Brian Henry has been a book editor, writer, and creative writing instructor for more than 25 years. He teaches creative writing at Ryerson University. He also leads weekly creative writing courses in Burlington, Mississauga, Oakville and Georgetown and conducts Saturday workshops throughout Ontario. His proudest boast is that he has helped many of his students get published.